━ 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥;
Anastasia Lupin-Black was never aware of her ulterior self. You see, she's adopted just like her other two siblings. Anastasia Lupin-Black was just a cover-up for who she truly was. For who was hidden beneath all the lies and enchant...
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. . .
Anatasia was never perceived as a usual witch. Not that witches were a usual thing, to begin with, but in the wizarding world, people frowned upon others who were unique. She was one of them.
Her eyes flashed an uneasy green when she couldn't control her emotions and sometimes she would unconsciously tamper with the earth's balance. It scared her and it even scared the people around her.
She felt queasy as they arrived in front of a muggle neighborhood in the middle of London. She had not gotten used to flying on a broom with her father. Her father chuckled and rubbed her back in a comforting manner.
Victoria ended up going to Luna's earlier than she planned to and Leo headed to Marlene and Dorcas' house, but Anastasia decided to stay with her parents.
"Here," Lily muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment toward Anastasia's hand and holding her lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. "Read quickly and memorize."
Anastasia looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Sirius pulled the piece of parchment out of Anastasia's hand and set fire to it with his wand tip. The message curled into flames and floated to the ground.
"Think about what you've just memorized," Remus said quietly, glancing at his daughter.
Anastasia thought, and no sooner had she reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way.
Sirius walked up first. With a wave of his wand, the door creaked open. He walked in first, Anastasia following. This place looked oddly familiar. Almost like an old memory.
"I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT —"
The loud shouting continued from upstairs.
Lily sighed. "Stas why don't you go upstairs." Lily gave Anastasia a forced and weak smile.
Anastasia headed upstairs and pushed open the door and saw Ron sitting on a bed staring at Hermione who was frozen on her feet looking at Harry who was yelling. She rose a brow and leaned on the door frame, waiting for them to realize she was in the room.
"WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?"
Every bitter and resentful thought that Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being followed and not told about it: All the feelings he was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries.
